


Wedding Dress

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fluff Without Plot?, Neal is there, fwp?, pretty much no plot but also no porn, slight Swanfire mention, woobie!Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: When Neal sees the wedding dress his father’s been working on, he knows this is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea. Meanwhile, Belle is in love and she’s getting married, and she’s not very happy about either circumstance.





	

“Whoa.”

Neal Gold stopped dead in his father’s workshop, arrested by the sight of the gown on the dress form. Standing in pride of place in the middle of the room, the form was draped in icy white satin that shimmered with beads and crystals in intricate patterns. On closer inspection, Neal realized they formed trailing vines and roses, winding their way up and down the ruched bodice and flowing skirt.

“Pops, this...this is something else!”

From his drafting board in the corner, Roderick Gold gave a very small smile. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

Gold shrugged and bent his head so that his son couldn’t see his eyes.

“It’s…” Neal was a bit lost for words. “I mean, it’s incredible. This woman’s gonna cry when she sees it.”

“That’s usually the goal.”

Neal stepped a little closer still, careful not to touch the shimmery fabric. He didn’t have an extensive dressmaker’s vocabulary, but he’d been around his father’s business long enough that he could make out the fine details that made the dress so exquisite.

The beading was unusually beautiful, of course, but the stitches in the seams were so tiny and perfect as to be almost invisible. The cut of the fabric was so immaculate that the woman would look like the dress had grown on her. Gold was known for his taste and craftsmanship, as well as his ability to make the simplest dress appear as a work of art: a critic had once joked that he could transform burlap into cloth-of-gold, and from that moment he’d been known as Rumplestiltskin. He’d been dressmaker to the stars for years before decamping to sleepy little Storybrooke, Maine, to raise his preteen son and take over his father’s pawn shop.

Neal had hated the stupid shop as a kid, despised the junk and the clutter and the suspicious car stereos that were not at all stolen, no sir, just  _ salvaged _ . He’d hated the desperate looks on people’s faces as they pawned the few valuable things they owned, hated his grandfather’s malicious smiles as he gave them a fraction of the objects’ real worth and claimed he was doing them a favor. When his father had taken over and slowly but steadily revamped the store into an antiques shop with tailoring services, Neal had been relieved.

The younger Gold drove a hard bargain and only accepted genuine antiques, but at least he never cheated anyone, and he never, never went back on his word.

Unfortunately, his refusal to acknowledge dear old Aunt Nancy’s porcelain doll collection as anything but a terrible monstrosity, or his outright disgust when presented with forgeries, had made him scarcely more popular than his own father. Neal understood their feelings - everyone wanted to believe that their family heirlooms were worth at least as much as their sentimental value, and his old man wasn’t exactly shy about expressing his opinions - but he’d always, even as a teen, been slightly resentful of the suspicious stares and uneasy murmurs directed at the man who had, more or less, always been his hero.

Things were even worse around prom season when, despite the fact that they were paying exorbitant amounts of money for their daughters to wear custom-made gowns that would get trampled and torn and stained, the parents of the town whispered maliciously about what kind of man willingly measured young girls in such an intimate manner. Neal had boycotted prom on principle both years, which had been just fine with his then-girlfriend Emma. Emma hadn’t cared much for dresses anyway, and she and her parents were pretty much the only people in town who didn’t consider his father a monster.

The last wedding gown Gold had designed had been for Emma herself, when Neal married her three years ago. It had been perfect too, simple and chic and pale blue without a single stitch of lace or even one bead. Emma had been in tears when she saw it, and no woman had ever looked so beautiful when she walked down the aisle.

The more Neal examined this dress, though, the more he had a gut feeling that something was wrong. There was too much of his father in this gown; the stitches almost looked handsewn, and the fact that Gold had bolted to his drafting board and hadn’t so much as looked up since Neal came in was suspicious in itself. Pops had never minded working in front of him before.

“Papa?”

Gold looked up cautiously. “Yes?”

“Who’s this for?”

His father’s shoulders tensed and then slumped a little, and Neal had almost guessed the answer before he said it.

“Belle French.”

Neal’s heart dropped to his shoes.

“Belle? Belle’s getting married?”

“Yes.”

“And...she asked  _ you _ to make the dress?”

“Of course she did,” Gold said hoarsely, twirling a pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m her  _ best friend. _ ”

“Oh, God, Papa.”

“Don’t.”  
“But you…”

“Knew this was bound to happen.” Gold pushed back from his table and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s young and beautiful and vibrant.  _ You _ were the one who hoped for more, Neal, not me.”

This didn’t make sense. None of it made a single lick of sense. Belle was  _ crazy _ about his father, Neal was sure of it. He hadn’t been home as much in the last year or so, as Emma’s job was starting to pick up and someone needed to stay home with two-year-old Henry while she was away on jobs, but he’d been around enough to pick up on the sweet shy smiles, the come-hither glances, the coy flirting. And she touched him all the time, she was always touching him: smoothing his lapels and straightening his ties and flicking lint off his sleeves and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm when they walked anywhere together. Once or twice she even brushed strands of hair out of his eyes and Neal was pretty sure pride alone kept his father from melting into a puddle.

Belle had been in Storybrooke all of a month before the town was buzzing about the strange friendship that had sprung up between the bookworm and the beast. Neal knew his father had been long gone in a matter of weeks, and he’d been sure, absolutely, positively, felt-it-in-his-bones  _ certain _ that Belle felt the same way.

But now she was marrying someone else?

What the hell happened?

“Nothing happened,” Gold said a little angrily, and Neal realized he’d asked that last question aloud. “There was nothing to...we were only ever friends. She didn’t love me, Neal. She was never going to love me.”

“Does she know how you feel about her?”

“Do you think she’d have asked me to make this dress for her if she did?”

Of course she wouldn’t. Belle wasn’t cruel. In fact, she was so soft-hearted that if she ever found out how much it hurt his father to make this dress she would probably burn it herself.

“She’s gonna know the second she sees it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I knew.”

“You’re you.”

“Astute observation.”

“I mean, you have an artist’s eye and you’ve been around my work all your life. You see things the layman can’t.”

“So what else are you doing for her? Baking the cake? Arranging the flowers? Walking her down the aisle?” At his father’s shifty look Neal groaned. “Papa... _ no _ .”

“Her father had a heart attack recently and can’t walk very far. He’ll meet her at the altar and give her away. I just have to get her there.”

“That’s crazy, Papa. This is...why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“It is not torture to help give my  _ best friend _ the wedding of her dreams.”

“Stop saying that. I know the truth, okay? Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

Gold sighed. “Fine. I am. But mostly I’m lying to myself, alright? I have to if I’m gonna get through this in one piece.”

Neither of them heard the bell on the shop door ring.

* * *

 

She was supposed to go in for her final fitting the next day, and she was on tenterhooks. Ever since she’d asked Mr. Gold to sew her wedding gown, she’d been on edge, and she didn’t want to admit that she knew why. He’d agreed readily enough, taken her measurements with professional efficiency and not even a hint of impropriety (though the memory of his being so close still left her breathless), and just yesterday had called her to schedule her final fitting.

The last time she saw the gown, it was a mass of white satin with wide basting stitches in the seams and no adornment. Draped over her figure she got a better idea of how it would look, but her brain still couldn’t supply her with a picture of the finished product. She wasn’t sure she wanted to picture it.

Belle had always longed for love and marriage and a family and for the last year or so she thought she’d found the man who would make those things possible. Roderick Gold was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man, intelligent and handsome and witty and God, _so_ _irresponsibly_ _sexy_ , and she’d never wanted anyone so much in her life, and after almost a year she was certain he felt the same way about her. And then…

Well, not much had happened. Ever. Belle didn’t consider herself the subtlest person, and she thought she’d made her feelings extremely clear. When Greg Gaston asked her out about four months ago and Belle had asked Gold for his advice, Gold had shrugged and said that anything was worth a try.

His complete indifference had broken Belle’s heart.

And now she was marrying Greg because, quite frankly, she couldn’t think of a reason not to. Not one that mattered or would ever come to anything. Being hopelessly in love with a man who would never want her wasn’t a reason.

At least, she hadn’t thought so.

“What is  _ wrong _ with you tonight?” Ruby huffed, setting their drink glasses down with a huff. “It’s girls’ night. We’re supposed to be having fun and you’re sitting there moping like the world’s about to end.”

Belle blinked and deliberately dragged her mind back to the Rabbit Hole and the booth she and Ariel and Ruby shared.

“Did someone ruin a library book?” Ariel asked sympathetically.

“No.”

“Greg being a knucklehead?” Ruby swirled the ice in her drink.

“No.”

“Then…”

“I have my final fitting tomorrow.”

The girls stared at her in total bafflement. “That’s...that’s supposed to be a good thing, sweetie,” Ruby said gently. “Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”

“Are you worried you won’t like the dress?” Ariel reached out and put a hand comfortingly on Belle’s. “You shouldn’t be. Mr. Gold designed my senior prom dress and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You looked like a real-life mermaid,” Ruby grinned. “I remember that thing.”

“That’s not it. I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous.”

“Okay, that’s still not the tone of voice we expect from brides-to-be,” Ruby sighed. “Try again.” She widened her eyes and clasped her hands to her chest. “I’m  _ sure _ it’ll be  _ gorgeous _ !” she exclaimed in the sappiest, breathiest, Disney-princessiest voice Belle had ever heard. Ariel laughed and Belle smiled.

“So if it’s not that, what is it?” Ariel asked.

Belle shrugged, but she could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and to her horror when she tried to speak a little sob broke out. Ruby was out of her seat in a second and sliding onto the bench next to Belle; she took Belle in her arms and stroked her hair. Across the table, Ariel looked horrified.

“What...what’s wrong? Did...did he do something? Say something?”

“No,” Belle hiccuped. “He didn’t do anything. Say anything. That’s what’s wrong.”

“What are you talking about? He asked you to marry him!”

“Not Greg,” Ruby sighed, stroking Belle’s hair. “She’s not talking about Greg.”

Ariel’s mouth dropped open, and understanding washed over her face.

“Oh, hon,” Ruby said quietly. “When did you tell him?”

“Huh?” Belle gulped. “I didn’t.”

“Wait...what? You didn’t?”

“No, of course not!”

“Not...not even before Greg?”

“No!”

Ruby pulled away and stared at her incredulously. “Seriously? All this time...all those dinners and movie nights and strolls in the moonlight and you never mentioned to the guy that you wanna make mad, passionate love to him and have his babies?”

“Well, I...I thought I made it obvious. When he didn’t respond I thought…”

“Belle, I love you, but wow, you really messed up there.”

“Me? How?”

Ariel shook her head. “I keep forgetting you didn’t grow up here,” she said. “Mr. Gold is...well, he’s never shown an interest in anyone in town.”

“I know that, he told me himself he’s never dated anyone…”

“No, I mean he’s never shown  _ any _ kind of interest. In  _ anyone _ he’s not related to. For  _ any _ reason.”

Ruby nodded. “Even the Nolans - y’know, his in-laws? - he only seemed to care about them  _ after _ Neal married Emma.”

“So when he started hanging around you all the time...well, it threw us all for a loop. And when you seemed to like him  _ back _ …”

“I didn’t know you never asked him out. I thought you were dating him!”

“If I were dating him, why would I start dating Greg?” Belle rubbed her eyes.

“Because…” Ariel’s voice trailed off and she looked worried, “because he’s  _ Greg _ . He’s kind of gorgeous and charming, y’know? I guess we figured you’d...moved on.”

“You mean ‘traded up,’” Belle snapped. “You thought I broke up with Roderick and chose Greg?”

“More or less,” Ariel said apologetically.

“And from the way Mr. Gold moped around for a month, so did he.”

Belle slumped back into the booth, her mind whirling. If the girls were right, she’d gone about everything the wrong way.

“I can’t marry Greg,” she said finally.

Both women gave huge sighs of relief.

“I’m so glad you said that,” Ruby confessed. “‘Cause I wanted to, but I know how much you hate being told what to do.”

“I haven’t been fair to him, have I?” Belle said sadly. “All this time I  _ knew _ I was still in love with Roderick. I just pretended I wasn’t so I didn’t have to deal with it.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s all on you,” Ariel pointed out. “Mr. Gold could’ve said something, after all.”

“Yeah.” Belle sat and stared at her barely touched drink for a moment more, then nodded decisively. “It’s still early. I’m gonna go have a talk with Greg and then...I guess I’ll go see Roderick and figure this out once and for all.”

The conversation with Greg was blessedly short. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t exactly the deepest or most romantic of souls. He took back the ring with very good grace, told her to make sure Gold treated her well, and sent her on her way. Probably this time next month he’d even have a new girlfriend; Greg was just that kind of guy. In retrospect, that was probably why she’d agreed to be with him: he made no demands on her heart.

Gold’s antiques shop was empty, but the sign wasn’t turned and she could see the light from his workshop around the edges of the curtained archway. He was still there, possibly even working on her wedding dress, and at that thought her heart lurched. If her friends were right, and he felt as strongly for her as she did for him, every stitch would be torment. Every conversation about invitations and flowers and groomsmen and cake must have been agony.

Oh, God, he’d agreed to  _ walk her down the aisle _ .

Steeling herself, Belle pushed open the door and was surprised when he didn’t emerge from the back room. Voices were coming from the workshop, and Belle could discern Neal’s as well as Gold’s. Frowning, she turned to leave again - she didn’t want to interrupt the very little time Gold got with his son - but her name floated out from behind the curtain.

“If you love Belle, why are you watching her marry someone else? Hell, forget watching. Why are you  _ helping _ ?”

“ _ Because _ I love her. I want her to be happy. If this is what makes her happy, I’ll perform the damn wedding service myself.”

Belle raised shaking hands to her mouth.

“But what if you can make her happier?”

“Neal…”

“I’m just saying, you never gave it a chance. Did you ever even ask her out?”

“We have dinner regularly, you know that.”

“No, I mean a real date. Where you wear one of your expensive suits and she wears a dress and you go out for a fancy dinner and then neck in the car a little bit before you drop her off at her place. And then she asks you in for coffee and...”

“For Christ’s sake, stop.” Gold’s voice was strained.

Belle inched closer to the curtain, her heart racing.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Because?”

“Because she didn’t want to.”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re arrogant,” Neal huffed. “What, did you read her mind? How could you possibly know that?”

Twisting her hands nervously in front of her, Belle stepped from behind the curtain and took a deep breath.

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

Neal spun around and Gold nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Uh...hey, Belle.” Neal smiled frantically. Gold looked as if he might bolt or vomit. Maybe both. “I, uh, I...I was just...leaving.”

Belle nodded, her eyes still fixed on his father. Neal dashed through the curtain, and seconds later the bell on the door gave a very loud clang and then went silent.

* * *

 

The air between them was thick with unspoken words and long-buried feelings. Gold hung his head and tried to his best to will the floor underneath him to swallow him whole, but the polished hardwood remained stubbornly intact. The click of Belle’s heels told him she was walking toward him, and he was steeling himself for a very loud scolding or a very hard slap when she gasped and he couldn’t stop himself from looking up.

She’d caught sight of her dress and was staring at it, her eyes huge and bright with unshed tears. Inching closer, she grasped a fold of the satin and caressed it, then dropped it to trace the beading with her finger.

“Roderick, this...this is…”

When words failed her she turned her luminous gaze on him and he was powerless to look away. He shrugged, hoping she would just leave him to his humiliation if she wasn’t going to yell at him. But she stayed where she was, studying him, and he began to feel hot and twitchy.

After what felt like an eternity she dropped her eyes from his face. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then marched toward him, her expression determined. Gold clenched his hands into fists, steeling himself for her ire, but she stopped only when the toes of her shoes touched his. She looked up and caught his gaze - they were almost eye-to-eye her heels were so tall - and her entire being softened, her eyes glowing and her skin turning a delicate pink.

He still could not speak.

Slowly, as if giving him time to turn tail and run, she lifted her face to his, closer, so close he could feel her breath tickling his chin, and then her lips were on his and he wasn’t sure whether he was awake or not anymore. The kiss was brief, gentle and sweet, and when she pulled away her eyes were fluttering over his face as if searching for something.

“What’s happening?” he croaked, his voice returning at last.

“I’m not marrying Greg,” she whispered, and moved in for another kiss, but he leaned  away.

“What? Why?”

Her hands were on his shoulders, he realized, and she was squeezing as if trying to ground him, to remind him that she was real. “Because I don’t love him. I never did.”

“Then why did you…”

“You didn’t want me. I mean, I...I  _ thought _ you didn’t want me. But I was wrong.” Her brow creased and she looked nervous again in the face of his stunned silence. “W-wasn’t I?” He blinked, trying to clear his head and make sense of her words, which were contradictory to everything he’d ever known about their relationship. “If I’ve crossed a line, please just tell me. But I realized tonight that trying on my dress was the last thing I wanted to do, because it was just one more thing that made the wedding  _ real _ .”

“You’ve had a change of heart, then.”

“No,” Belle sighed, “that’s just it. It’s always been you, Roderick. I’ve  _ always _ loved you. Greg was just...the guy who asked. And I was sure you never would, so I thought...why not? Then you were so  _ happy _ for me, and so  _ helpful _ , and I thought, see I’m right, he doesn’t want me. And then you agreed to make the dress and…”

“You…” That couldn’t be his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You love me?”

Belle nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. And if you don’t want this, I’ll completely understand, but I…” Her little speech ended in a squeak as he leaned in and caught her lips with his own. Not want this? Not want  _ her _ ? He couldn’t imagine a reality in which that would be possible. He pulled away after a few blissful seconds and took in her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

“I love you, too,” he said hoarsely.

Throwing her arms around his neck, Belle  _ lunged _ at him, nearly knocking him off balance. By instinct he wrapped his own arms around her waist in an attempt to keep them upright, but that had the effect of pulling her flush against him, which did nothing for his equilibrium. He maneuvered them so that his back was to his drafting table, and now there was a whole world of possibilities for hands and lips because he didn’t need to worry about toppling to the floor and crushing her.

Gold pulled away just long enough to slant his lips over hers more securely, thrilling when she moaned and her fingers tightened in his hair. His doubts and fears were dissipating like shadows exposed to light. How could he not believe that she wanted him when she was pressing her chest to his, scratching her nails over his scalp, and pulling at his lower lip with her mouth? He pushed his hands under the wool of her coat and dug his fingers into her lower back, pulling her closer still. She gasped, and he dove in again, his tongue dancing with hers and finally gaining dominance, flicking up against the roof of her mouth.

Her hands left his hair and she shrugged out of the coat, which fell to the floor with a dull thump. Slipping her hands under his arms and around to his back, she dragged her lips away from his and pressed a kiss to his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat, and then back up again on the other side. He’d never been so glad in his life that he tended to shed his suit jacket and tie when he was working. Her fingers were working at the buttons of his shirt and he was toying with the zipper of her dress when something near their feet began to buzz. He tried to ignore it, but the sound was just low enough to register and whoever was calling was really quite persistent.

“Your phone, sweetheart,” he rasped. She huffed and bent to retrieve it, and Gold drew in great gulps of air, his head whirling from lack of oxygen. Or proximity to Belle. Probably the latter, actually.

“What, Ruby?” she nearly snapped. “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m  _ fine _ ...yes,  _ that _ kind of fine...yes... _ yes _ ...no! Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? What do you mean what time? Whenever I get around to it!” She blushed brightly. “ _ Goodbye, Ruby. _ ” She turned the phone off for good measure and looked up at Gold sheepishly. “Sorry. She, uh...she was worried.”

“Or nosy.”

Belle giggled. “That too.”

Gold reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, pulled back out of habit, then followed through with a little thrill when he remembered that she  _ wanted _ him. He let his hand brush against her cheek for good measure, his heart pounding when she sighed and leaned into his touch.

“So...what now?” Belle asked, sounding just a touch insecure now that things had calmed a bit.

“Well, I need to close the shop,” he pointed out. “Unless Neal had the foresight to do so when he left, which I doubt, and anyway he doesn’t have a key. After that...well it’s a bit late for a proper first date, but…”

Belle smiled meaningfully, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’ve already eaten, and we’ve had our bit of necking. How about a cup of coffee at my place?”

“I...uh...coffee? Or  _ coffee? _ ”

Leaning up, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Close the shop and find out.” She headed for the front of the shop, but paused by the dress form. “I really do love this dress,” she said, brushing one hand against the silky skirt. “I...I hope I’ll get a chance to wear it some day.”

He smiled and pulled her into a kiss. “So do I.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know where this came from. I was literally in the middle of a chapter of something else and this story grabbed the steering wheel of my brain and took me on a joyride. I'm actually a little exhausted from writing this.
> 
> It's not terribly original or deep but...I dunno. I had fun.


End file.
